


The Psychic and the Profiler

by orphan_account



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019), Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: Case Fic, Crossover, Gen, In a way, Murder Mystery, Not Canon Compliant, to either show
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25158757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Gil sends Malcolm on a trip to sunny Santa Barbara, California, in the hopes of relaxing the tightly-wound profiler. But when Malcolm is in the wrong place at the wrong time, he becomes the prime suspect in a murder case. The SBPD hires Psych to solve the case. As the body count rises, the psychic and profiler struggle to work together to solve the case.Worlds will collide. Lives will change. Tones will jarringly shift.
Relationships: Burton "Gus" Guster & Shawn Spencer, Juliet O'Hara/Shawn Spencer, Shawn Spencer & Malcolm Bright
Comments: 10
Kudos: 27





	1. Santa Barbara Vacation

**Author's Note:**

> well, well, well..... look who decided to start writing fic again. (it's me)
> 
> I haven't written for either of these shows before, so bear with me through the first few chapters— everyone will likely be OOC until I've gotten into the groove. 
> 
> Tonally, this fic will lean towards being more goofy than Prodigal Son, but less comedic than Psych. Somewhere in the middle. It also may be a while between updates, so be patient, please.
> 
> Anyway— Enjoy!

"You're going to have fun, Malcolm."

That was what Gil had said, five minutes before Malcolm left for the airport. The trip was going to be _fun_. 

And it was, Malcolm supposed, _fun_ for the first day. Walking on the beach, eating a cup of pineapple fro-yo (which was _disgusting_ ), sightseeing— all normal, enjoyable tourist stuff. It didn't fully take Malcolm's mind off of... well, everything, but it managed to distract him for at least a minute in all. 

For a moment there, Malcolm thought he may have actually gotten away from murder for once. He'd heard somewhere that Santa Barbara was the murder capital of the world, but he'd never really _believed_ it. After all, he lived in New York, where murders seemed to happen every week. How could Santa Barbara compare to that?

It happened in a parking garage. 

Malcolm had parked his car (a rental) in a garage by the Santa Barbara Zoo, where he had hoped to see some exotic birds. He was a little homesick for Sunshine, and a bit worried, too, considering that he'd left her in his mother's care. 

He'd skipped the elevator, only being parked on the third level. But as soon as he stepped onto the staircase, he felt something land on his head. 

And drip, drip, drip down his face. 

Something red. 

And warm. 

Malcom looked up very slowly, a pit of dread building in his chest. 

There was a woman, covered in blood and definitely dead, splayed across the staircase up to the fourth level. Malcolm hadn't even noticed her— he'd been checking the time, seeing how soon his mother was set to feed Sunshine. 

More blood had dripped onto Malcolm as he stood, examining the body from his place on the stairs. He should have been smarter— should have realized how it looked. 

At that point a woman came up the stairs.

She saw Malcolm covered in blood. She saw the dead body. 

And then she screamed. 

* * *

They'd been nice enough to let him change out of the bloody clothes, at least, before dragging him to the run-down interrogation room. Malcom was cuffed and told to wait, that someone would be with him shortly. He couldn't get a word in, couldn't tell them that he worked for the NYPD, that they could call Lieutenant Gil Arroyo, that he would tell them. 

No, as soon as they ran his name, everything clicked. 

Malcolm buried his face in his hands, trying to stem the tremor that was beginning. This was supposed to be a _fun_ , relaxing vacation. 

Figured. 

The door to the interrogation room opened. Two men entered. 

"—Back to the Future 3 is _not_ the best movie in the franchise, Gus," the first one was saying as he sat down in front of Malcolm. 

The second man, Gus, shook his head. "Well, it's not 2." He took a seat. 

The first man looked at Malcolm. "So, you're Malcolm Whitly?"

"Bright." 

"Right. Sorry." The man glanced over to his associate, who Malcolm couldn't help but notice was staring at him with slight terror. "My name is Shawn Spencer," the first man continued. "I'm a psychic detective. And this is my partner, Heart Eyes." 

Malcolm chuckled. Then he realized that the supposed psychic and his associate were not. "Oh, you were serious." 

"Yes, I was. Please don't undermine my abilities." 

"Sorry." Malcolm paused. "So if you're psychic, you know—"

"That you're innocent? Yes." 

"Ohthankgod," Malcolm breathed, some of the tension leaving his body. "I work with the NYPD, I'm—"

"A criminal profiler."

Malcolm nodded. 

"I'm not a fan of profilers, if I'm being honest," Shawn said, leaning back in his seat. "I knew a profiler once."

"He wasn't actually a profiler, Shawn," Gus/Heart Eyes retorted. 

"I've heard it both ways."

Malcolm glanced down at his hands, still handcuffed to the table. "So... Can I go now?" 

Shawn paused. "Well, no," he said. "We know you're innocent—" He gestured to himself and his partner. "—But we have to convince them." He pointed to the one-way mirror, and then began to wave to it. "Heya, Lassie!"

"The dog?" Malcolm asked. 

There was a sound like somebody punching the mirror from the other side. 

"Detective Lassiter," Gus clarified. 

Shawn looked back to Malcolm. "Don't worry, dude," he said. "We're gonna prove your innocence. That's what we _do_."

Malcolm glanced between the two, then to the mirror, then back at Shawn and Gus. "Okay," he finally said. "But I want to help."


	2. A Team-Up Of Epic Proportions

Lassie was forced to let Malcolm go after a long interrogation, much to his chagrin. Shawn and Gus were waiting for Malcolm outside the room, abruptly stopping whatever pop culture-centric conversation they were having when the profiler appeared.

”We’ll take you back to your car,” Shawn said. "We can take Gus' car." Gus was given no chance to argue.

Malcolm nodded. “And I can check out the crime scene while we’re there.” 

Shawn smirked. “I like you already.” 

”Uh, Shawn, a word?” Gus pulled Shawn aside, glancing at Malcolm to make sure he was out of earshot. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

”Solving this case?”

”You’re assisting a murder suspect!” Gus cried, before lowering his voice again. “Not to mention one with a _family history_ of murder. And using my car!”

”Gus, don’t be the finale of _Lost_ ,” Shawn whispered. “We know he’s innocent. And, it’s not like we’ve seen tons of proof that a child ends up like their father. Look at me. Look at Jules!” 

Gus opened his mouth to say something about how Shawn was more like his dad than he thought, but Shawn had already walked back over to Malcolm, looping an arm over the profiler’s shoulder. 

”Malcolm— can I call you Mal?”

”Uhm. No,” Malcolm said, glancing back at Gus, who hadn’t moved since Shawn walked away. “Is he okay?”

Shawn waved his hand dismissively. “He does this all the time.” 

”I do _not_ ,” Gus replied petulantly, joining the other two as they walked out of the police station. The Blueberry was waiting outside. "Shawn, take shotgun," Gus ordered, not-so-subtly delegating Malcolm to the backseat. The profiler didn’t argue. 

The car ride was silent for the most part, until Shawn finally spoke up, spinning around in the passenger seat to face Malcolm. “So, you work for the NYPD?” Malcolm nodded. “Must be pretty busy. How many cases have you solved?” 

Malcolm thought for a moment. “About twenty,” he finally said. 

”Cool. Cool.” Shawn grinned. “We’ve solved more than a hundred.”

“Shawn,” Gus said, a warning edge to his voice. 

Shawn turned back to face Gus. “What? It’s not a sin to be proud of our achievements.”

”Pride is one of the seven deadly sins, Shawn.”

”Is it really?” 

Gus’s reply came in the form of an eye roll. Then, the car came to a stop, outside the parking garage. “Here we are,” Shawn said, gesturing widely to the garage. “The murder scene.” He unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the car door. “Come on! My wife is waiting.” 

Malcolm stepped out of the car beside him. ”You’re married?” 

”Oh, Mal,” Shawn said, laughing. “You have much to learn.”


	3. UPDATE

Hey there folks. Little update on the state of this fic— it’s basically dormant for now. I’ve had no drive to write it and absolutely no idea where it was going to go.   
  


I’m really sorry to disappoint. If you wanted to take this fic and run with it, be my guest! 

Who knows? I may finish it someday. But for now, it’s at rest. Thanks for understanding! Love y’all. 


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